Author: Jamie Bradburn

Ten Thousand Doctors Can’t Be Wrong

Trusting the judgment of her faithful nurse, the morose, near-suicidal patient took the tipple of Wincarnis. And another. And another. She wasn’t sure if the promised “new life” ran through her veins, but at least she was temporarily distracted from the other pressures of this mortal coil.

Wincarnis derived its name from its mixture of wine and meat byproducts. It was a snappier branding than the one it bore when introduced in Great Britain in 1887: Liebig’s Extract of Meat and Malt Wine. The current manufacturer continues to tout the medicinal qualities of the herbs and vitamins mixed into Wincarnis, even if it is officially marketed as an aperitif instead of a cure-all. We’ve also read that it tastes great mixed with Guinness and milk.

Golden Girls Galore

Thirty years after this ad teased Toronto Sun readers, the phrase “golden girls” may not conjure up a night in a peeler joint, unless you’re a fan fiction writer willing to place the sitcom characters in such a setting (though given Betty White’s willingness to do anything lately, it might not be that great a stretch to imagine her in pasties and a g-string).

Besides overemphasizing the hair colour and lusty potential of the dancers, we wonder if club management had a soft spot for a classic Bob Dylan album. Would the non-blonde (unless the newsprint is lying) Viki Page have titillated her audience to the strains of “I Want You” or “Just Like a Woman”? Would the urging to get stoned in “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” combined with the lack of accessories on the dancers have caused club clientele to drop all discretion?

Later nightclub incarnations at the same address include Uberhaus, Tila Tequila, and Moda Night Life.

A Cure for Oilcers

Today’s ad is for readers who are puzzled whenever bags appear under the headlights of their vehicle that aren’t caused by scratches bestowed by other drivers exiting a tight parking space or provided by a bird in an artistic mood. Fret not: oilcers can be cured (however, that puddle of stomach battery acid on the ground might be a different story…).

For readers unable to decipher the good doctor’s prescription underneath the remedial box, our certified medical professional recommends that the patient should have “one complete set of Perfect Circle Custom Made Piston Rings—to be taken before the next meal. This to be followed by plenty of road work.”
Disclaimers: Only use Perfect Circle as recommended. Do not use if car develops fever, froths at the mouth, or responds to the name “Christine.”

Free to Go

Yes, this businesswoman is free to go…into the afterlife, that is. The glowing lights and yellow arches welcome her to whatever awaits after she shuffles off this mortal coil (though it looks like it will resemble a 1980s ad designer’s dream). She should have taken it as a warning sign when the pressure of balancing so many communications gadgets sitting atop her head, day after day, caused her face to assume a grape juice–like complexion. Poor Robert will receive neither a reply about the breaking developments with the coffee supply contract, nor will he receive the page she was preparing when her brain caved in.

National Pagette was acquired by Shaw Communications in 1995. At the time, it was described as Canada’s largest provider of telephone answering services and sixth-largest paging company.

We wonder if the phones at the Toronto Sun were overwhelmed with calls from early Star Wars zealots incensed to discover that their beloved “wild wacky Wookie” (other articles couldn’t decide how many “e”s Chewbacca’s species required) was being compared to a carpet. Goofy writing didn’t deter the ten lucky winners who weren’t devoured by actor Peter Mayhew during dinner at the CN Tower. After seeing their picture with the costume-less giant printed in the Sun, contest victors who still hadn’t had their fill of Star Wars could still catch the movie at a handful of big screens around Metro Toronto where it had settled into a long run, including the Elane (at Eglinton and Danforth), Fairview Mall, Mt. Pleasant, and the Varsity.

Mayhew took a weekend off from his day job as an orderly in England to attend the Vantastic van show and dine with the contest winners. Columnist Sylvia Train was impressed with the sheer size of the seven-foot-plus visitor while lunching with him at the Courtyard Café (“One of my hands spread out fitted easily in his palm”). Show organizers had difficulty finding a hotel bed suitable for Mayhew’s frame until they finally located one at the Bristol Place, where he was quickly besieged with autograph requests from the staff and their families. When the limousine company hired for Mayhew discovered his claim to fame, they donated their services in exchange for a set of autographed pictures. When asked if he had been approached to reprise his role in “Star Wars II,” Mayhew responded: “They have offered me the part and though I haven’t accepted as yet, I’m sure I will.”

Additional material from the December 2, 1977 edition of theToronto Sun.

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

Here are winners of the Sun‘s contest to have dinner with a wookiee, as presented in the December 2, 1977 edition of TO’s daily tabloid.

From the same edition, columnist Sylvia Train compares her size to Mayhew’s. As she succinctly put it, he was “really big.” Special note was note was made that “though he is large he’s perfectly proportioned,” so that readers wouldn’t worry about the man suffering from any size-related physical deformities (who wanted to talk acromegaly or other disorders in a fluffy entertainment column?).

As a holiday matinee, a light musical about stolen kisses sounds more appropriate for Valentine’s Day than Thanksgiving. How well a production about a turkey bandit might have done at the Royal Alex near the end of World War I is debatable—would a dashing young man dressed as holiday fowl leer over the stunned damsel in an advertisement similar to this one?

The Kiss Burglardebuted on Broadway on May 9, 1918 and ran for one hundred performances before hitting the road. The story concerned an American staying in Trieste who, while fleeing a gambler, winds up in the boudoir of a local princess. She thinks he’s a thief, but all he steals is a kiss. The princess soon flees to the US due to the war and runs into the young man again. He steals another kiss, they realize they’re in love, and live happily ever after.

Local newspaper previews of the day tended to be regurgitated publicist copy, but there are subtle hints dotted throughout a piece that ran in the News on October 12, 1918 which indicate that the writer determined they had a piece of fluff on their hands. The show is described as having “a light theme—very light—an exquisite love story.” Playwright Glen MacDonough “has tried to get away from all viewpoint[s] and instill more idealism into his little romance,” while composer Raymond Hubbell had “more successes to his credit than any American composer” despite no mention of his other hits (we suspect only the Man in Chair from The Drowsy Chaperone might be aware of his work today). The review printed three days later was lukewarm toward star Patricia O’Hearn (described as having a “dainty figure” but a weak voice) and concluded that “the play, while diverting, does not rank among the best of the season” (which, given critical standards in Toronto papers at the time, indicates it was a true stinker). The World displayed next to no criticism in its review, as it praised O’Hearn for her ability to handle the “new jazz steps that made a fascinating appeal” during a dance number.

The reputation of The Kiss Burglar has not improved over time. A historical survey of American musical theatre published a decade ago noted that “Glen MacDonough’s book and Raymond Hubbell’s music were never much more than competent.”

Additional material from American Musical Theatre: A Chronicle (third edition) by Gerald Martin Boardman (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), the October 12, 1918 and October 15, 1918 editions of the News, and the October 15, 1918 edition of the Toronto World.

Protest sign makers should be busy this week thanks to the event many Torontonians wish was anywhere, ANYWHERE, else. While most of the signs will be crafted with great care or spontaneous inspiration by human hands, there may be the odd slogan slapped onto a sapling (because we all know how protesters love using innocent, young trees) that was created with a high-quality photocopier. The right to use such machinery to promote political and social causes was earned by a dedicated group of angry financial district secretaries during what has gone down in history as the Great Copymaker March of 1969.

Disgruntled officer workers blocked traffic as they walked northbound along Bay Street from King, en route to City Hall on October 16, 1969. Though no deaths or serious injuries occurred during the main rally at Nathan Phillips Square, it was reported that one puzzled observer was hauled away when he interpreted one protester’s sign as a coded plea for LSD, which he tried to offer to an undercover police officer. Targeted offices gave in to the demands of the protesters and soon office staffs all over Metro Toronto were free to print documents on 11″ x 17″ sheets. Copier producer Apeco held a celebration at their office near Islington Avenue and The Queensway, during which the photo for today’s ad was shot.

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

Some perspective on this ad submitted by “Don ITW”, who worked in the copier industry:

I actually worked on Apeco Rollo Matics. With over 30 years working on copiers they where the absolute worst machine I ever worked on. Last time I saw one was in about 1981. The Apeco office was located on Aimco Blvd in Mississauga, the building was purchased by Savin ( became part of Ricoh) the rollomatics went in the dumpster.

They where always blue I never new until I saw this ad that optional colours where available. Funny the colour of the dumpsters was also blue! The building on Aimco was very flashy (sexy) slanted glass front it is consistent with the image in this ad.

The pitch Olympia & York used to entice businesses and residents into the still-under-construction Queen’s Quay Terminal seemed to work. As the spring of 1983 approached, nearly all of the retail space was leased and the seventy-two luxury condos were selling quickly despite being among the most expensive boxes in the sky in the country (up to $520,000 per unit).

When the Terminal Warehouse Building was constructed in 1926, it was the first large poured-concrete structure in Canada. The site was used for regular and cold storage of merchandise under a variety of owners who allowed the structure to decay over the next half-century. By the time architect Eberhard Zeidler was commissioned to revamp the building for Harbourfront, rot had set into both the concrete and the roof. “If the warehouse hadn’t been so grossly over-constructed in the first place,” Zeidler told the Star, “if it hadn’t been so damn muscular, it would have sagged to its knees years ago.”

Globe and Mail, June 18, 1983.

Comments about the building were generally positive in the newspapers. The Globe and Mail’s “By Design” column found fault only with the size of the condos relative to their cost. Critic Adele Freedman was most impressed with the way the southeast corner of the façade was cut open to expose the interior and provide a great view of the harbour. She praised how the site was reused instead of being knocked down to make way for the atriums in vogue at the time (Atrium on Bay was the comparison point). “It demonstrates that the true heritage of public architecture in Canada resides in its indigenous agricultural and industrial buildings,” she noted, “which can survive adaptation and change. Of how many new public buildings in Toronto will that be true 53 years from now?”

The first major preview for the public on March 21, 1983 had a few hiccups. The plan called for the tower’s clock to start ticking as soon as spring officially arrived in England. Guests watched as 4:39 p.m. rolled around…and nothing happened. Mother Nature decided to bestow the event with the worst snowstorm the city had seen that year, which resulted in the layers of ice that froze the clock’s hands. An hour passed before workers cleaned off the clock enough for it to operate. The clock did not cause any problems when opening ceremonies were held in June.

The ad listing day one’s festivities left one Globe and Mail reader fuming. Given his complaint, we wonder if Harvey H. Bowman of Islington wasn’t using his real name when he let loose his bile:

Why do so many advertising promotion pictures featuring the violin show the instrument in the hands of a person who has obviously never played a note in his life, certainly not a note that deserves to be heard? The Queen’s Quay Terminal advertising supplement…showed a picture of a violin lying across a score, with the bow underneath the instrument. Symphony and concert violinists pay large amounts of money for their bows, and would never treat them that way. It’s just not done.

Additional material from the June 25, 1983 and July 8, 1983 editions of the Globe and Mail, and the March 22, 1983 and June 22, 1983 editions of the Toronto Star.

A month after a short list of five colour-coded designs for the redevelopment of the north side of St. Lawrence Market was submitted to a seven-member jury, the winner was announced this morning by Mayor David Miller and Councillor Pam McConnell (Ward 28, Toronto Centre─Rosedale). The victor is the “red” covered street concept created by Adamson Associates Architects and Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners. The plan calls for a five-storey structure evocative of a nineteenth-century arcade that is designed to allow for natural light and ventilation and will lead pedestrians to St. Lawrence Hall. Opening is targeted for 2014.

While construction of the new north market is underway, vendors will relocate to a temporary structure to be built in the open-air parking lot behind the south market at 125 The Esplanade. The interim location may bring a smile to drivers used to fellow motorists blocking Market Street while jostling for a sacred parking spot across from the south market (even though the parkade has tons of space) and to pedestrians having to deal with the blockading drivers. We suspect that construction may also free up a body for the Toronto Police Service, as market shoppers won’t require guidance across Front Street between intersections for a while.

Images courtesy the City of Toronto.

UPDATE

The new north market did not open in 2014. As of late 2017, the design continues to be tinkered with and debated by municipal officials, especially in the wake of archaeological finds related to earlier incarnations of the market. The temporary structure draws plenty of Saturday morning shoppers. While a traffic cop wasn’t needed at first, the volume of pedestrians crossing The Esplanade has required the use of one.

Not noted in the fine print for the Great Six coupe shown in today’s ad: whether the $2,675 price tag (which, according to the Bank of Canada’s inflation calculator, would be around $33,250 in current currency) includes a replica suit of armour so your chauffeur can drive you through Toronto with that extra degree of regal bearing and social distinction.

Toledo, Ohio-based Willys-Overland began its Toronto manufacturing operations (which, depending on the source, were based on Weston Road, Yonge Street, or both) when it purchased the Russell Motor Car Company in 1916. The driver who wanted to enjoy the prestige of purchasing a new Willys-Knight had few opportunities after today’s ad appeared, as the deepening depression reduced the pool of buyers who could afford to travel like European royalty. Willys-Overland slid towards bankruptcy and, as part of its reorganization, chopped the Willys-Knight, several other lines, and its Canadian manufacturing arm by the end of 1933. Within a decade, the company developed the vehicle that became its enduring legacy: the Jeep.